


In Honor Of Damian Wayne

by WriterOfFates



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:16:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterOfFates/pseuds/WriterOfFates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian is gone and those left behind feel his absence keenly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Honor Of Damian Wayne

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back when Damian was first killed off and I guess it's somewhat appropriate now that he's coming back apparently?  
> Okay then, comics, whatever.

The day that Wayne Manor was open for the public to give their condolences and see the casket, Richard Grayson had to drag Titus from the position he had consistently kept at his young master’s side since the broken and battered body had returned home.The black haired twenty-something year old tried to make the dog eat, but the Great Dane refused, looking back in the direction that he knew his master’s body lay. Dick sighed and released the leash, following after Titus and the dog weaved his way through the crowd, returning to his place at the head of the closed casket, surrounded by white lilies, sitting at attention.

Dick felt the pressure behinds his eyes build at the sight. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he returned to his place in the greeting line, but it built with each hand he shook, hug he received, kind word he heard.

And through it all, Titus sat frozen, unmoving even with the head pats, ear scratches and murmurs of “Good boy.”

Dick’s attention was jerked back at a small tug on his jacket. He looked down at the young redheaded boy standing before him, dressed in a tattered and mismatched suit that looked a few sizes too large for the small frame. The boy looked up at Dick with eyes as red-rimmed as his own, and Dick bends down to pull the boy into a tight hug. Dick sensed that this boy knew the story sold to the general public about his friend’s death was a lie. Knew that he had died in costume. Knew that was the reason the casket was closed.

Dick held Colin tighter for a moment more before pulling back. The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in some scrap cloth. “Can you give it to him? He stayed by my side. I want to stay by his. And I want him to know he will always be my hero.” Dick pulled back some of the cloth and saw the brass knuckles and the letters “ABU” before wrapping it back up.

“I’ll give it to him personally.” Colin threw his arms around Dick’s waist before moving on down the line. Dick watched as the boy rested his hand on the casket, the man’s eyes welling at the sight. When he knelt before Titus, the dog moved for the first time, nosing Colin’s hand Dick felt tears run down his face at that and he looked forward, clenching the brass knuckles in his hand before tucking them into his pocket.

The time dragged on, and finally the greeting hours ended. When the manor emptied out, Dick took his place nest to the coffin and lifted it up onto his shoulder and six bodies carried the one tiny body through the empty home and down into the cave. Titus followed as closely as he could, as if loathe to let even a foot of air come between him and the beautifully crafted casket.

They placed the coffin in a place of honor in the cave as more private greeting hours commenced. One after another, those who had known the young boy when he’d run the roofs in mask and cape, who knew the hero the boy had been.

Dick watched the men and women moving around the coffin and watched the dog that guarded his master from these people as he had from those who had been upstairs. Neither Dick nor Titus moved the entire night, both refusing food and just keeping watch over the little boy who was so firmly entrenched in their hearts.

At the first touch of down on the horizon, those who remained, the family and their closest friends, carried the coffin to the plot prepared for him in the family graveyard, beside his grandparents’ resting place.

The service was short but heart wrenching for all, and silence stretched after the last words had been spoken, broken only by muffled sobs. Even the morning songs of the birds were absent.

Dick thought of the tokens he had been given throughout the night from various people whose lives had been touched by his baby brother, people who considered the fallen hero their friend. He had tucked each and every item lovingly around the small body, cradling the boy with the love of those he had left behind to mourn one taken before his time.

As the body was lowered, the silence was broken by the howl of pure anguish from the dog that was having his master taken from him, and Dick dropped to his knees and gripped Titus’s collar to prevent him from leaping into the hole after the boy he loved.

He stayed like that, gripping the Great Dane tight until the hole was filled and six feet of dirt separated them from the body. Dick released his hold and Titus curled up at the foot of the grave as if it was a bed of dirt where his master was sleeping peacefully.

As the sun rose higher, the mourners slowly dispersed, leaving the family to share their sorrow with each other.

And as nightfall approached, they supported each other in stumbling back to the manor, leaving the huddled shape at the foot of the grave, whimpering his sorrow.

Damian Wayne

September 2006—February 27, 2013

A Hero to Many

Taken Before His Time


End file.
